For Life
by GottaSecretForYa
Summary: Roy/Cole Slash. Roy helps Herschel and Jack save Cole from being drown in the river tunnels. Now, Cole must deal with PTSD after surviving another near-death experience as well as his gratitude to a man who saved him after ruining his life.


**Disclaimer**: All characters and setting related to LA Noire belong to Rockstar Games.

**Warning**: This story includes yaoi slash and an exploration of PTSD. If either of these are upsetting, please use discretion before reading on.

**Pairing**: Roy Earle/Cole Phelps.

**A/N**: This is my first story for LA Noire. It was written to fulfill the following prompt on the LA Noire Kink Meme:

Roy was there the night Phelps and Kelso saved Elsa from Ira Hogeboom for reasons he doesn't want to enumerate (read: he's a total stalker) and when he saw Biggs struggling to pull Elsa, Kelso, and Phelps out of the tunnel he did something he'd never be able to explain to anyone, least of all himself, later-he ran to Biggs' side and helped pull Phelps out before the water got him.

Basically, what I'd like to see is how Cole deals with a) yet another near death experience (ptsd?) & b) his gratitude to a man who saved his life after irreversibly ruining it. Bonus points for Roy angst in the flavor of "uh-oh, I may have given away my _feeeelings_ for a man I supposedly hate." You know he'd just be even more of a cock than he usually is to compensate. It would be won~der~ful~.

* * *

A death by fire and a death by water. Somehow, Cole had managed to escape both during his life. He had seen every tear, every happy moment, every ache and pain he had ever endured played out in excruciating detail in the matter of seconds as his life scrolled in front of his eyes. He had watched Hank Merrill be blown to pieces as ash and cinders covered him and all he could do was stare at his burnt, shaking hands thinking, _this is it, this is it._ And later in the war, in the cave, surrounded by screaming women and children and fire, the pain from the bullet wound Sheldon gave him had overwhelmed him until Kelso ordered him to be brought to a medical tent for the night. Come the morning, he couldn't feel much, much less the regret and guilt that would torment him for weeks afterwards.

Now, he was drowning, with water threatening to fill his lungs instead of ash. The weight of hoisting Kelso up through the grate nearly plunged his head underneath the rushing water. Herschel and Jack were reaching out for him. He saw the desperation on their faces as his eyes burned with filthy water.

"Jump, Cole! Jump for it!"

Jump? It seemed impossible with the water pushing against his body. But surviving the battle of Sugar Loaf had seemed impossible too. Cole crouched down, despite the fact that the movement partially submerged his head, found purchase against the cement and surged upwards with everything he was worth. His hand slapped at air.

"Jump again! Come on!"

He wanted to yell at them that he would try, but there was a deafening roar from down the tunnel. With his heart pounding and his muscles feeling like overdrawn rubber, he pushed up once more. This time, he felt a hand close around his wrist.

"I've gotcha Cole!" He heard Biggs's raspy voice shout. But it was only half true. Even as he felt his partner's other hand close over his own, they were slipping, the water and the current beneath him pulling at him persistently. His partner was reaching too far in to the tunnel to hold him. Herschel would be dragged down as well. Elsa tried to grab onto Cole's arm, but Kelso held her back before she could fall. He tried to grab hold of Herschel's coat, but his wet hands couldn't seem to find their hold. The roaring was getting louder, closer, echoing off the walls. He couldn't hear his heartbeat anymore or whatever Herschel was yelling at him. They were slipping.

Then he was _rising_, up out of the water's relentless force and into the night air above the river tunnels. The asphalt beneath him was rough and hard against his knees, but wonderfully sturdy. He gasped and coughed as water rattled in his abused lungs. When the hands released him, he slid forward, onto his stomach, his cheek resting on the cold ground. There was a rumble as the torrent gushed out of the grate beside them like a geyser.

He felt hands pressing gently, but firmly, on his back, trying to help him breathe. He wanted to say he was fine, but his words dissolved into a coughing fit that seemed to last an eternity. When he came around, his chest was sore, his eyes were burning, and he could barely stand without Jack and Herschel supporting him with either of his arms around their shoulders. But he was _alive_. He could vaguely hear the sirens in the distance, responding to the gushes of water and somebody's report on the dispatch radio. He couldn't be certain who had made the report, though.

His head was still swimming as his body shook. The wind was freezing, more so than most nights in LA, though in the back of his mind, he knew he was plunging into shock. Elsa was hugging him and crying into his shoulder. She should have felt warm, but all he registered was the uncomfortable scratching of his wet suit against his skin. Jack was saying something to him, low and trying to be soothing, but Cole couldn't make it out. He couldn't seem to suck in enough breath. He tried to focus on the lights of the streetlamps, but those were darkening. His shivering grew uncontrollable. The world tilted and faded, but the last thing he saw before the darkness consumed him was not Elsa or Jack or Herschel, but _his_ worried face through the gloom.

* * *

"I'm here to learn, Detective," Cole told Bekowsky on his first day in Traffic. Fresh off patrol and still sparkling with pride for being pressed through the ranks of the LA so quickly, he didn't forget his place as the new officer. Pride cometh before the fall, after all. People respected humility. Usually.

Stefan's smile danced with humor as he stood. "He's an intense one, isn't he, Mel?"

Another voice butted into the conversation, loud and sure of itself. The man that came with it wasn't much different. "Who's intense?"

"The newly minted detective here. Cole Phelps," Bekowsky said to the newcomer.

In truth, Cole saw the salmon-pink sleeves and collar of the man coming towards him before he saw his face. The man was confident, his eyes a bit cold, but his smile beguiling. He could either be cynical or charming. Cole had the feeling he'd be finding out which soon enough. The man's fingers were wrapped around a cigarette and he didn't offer a hand for Cole to shake.

"Hi, Phelps. I'll be keeping an eye on you. I could spend a little time basking in reflected glory," he said. If Cole had been a woman, he was sure he would have received a suggestive wink by now. "Would make a change from busting hookers and dope fiends."

As quickly as the man came, he was gone, striding by as if he were on the red carpet and they were the paparazzi admiring his every move.

"Who was that, Commander?" Cole said, gesturing after him.

"Roy Earle, Chief Detective in Ad Vice," the Commander replied.

"Do they all dress like movie stars?" Cole asked, the corner of his lips curling.

The tone Stefan took was half-joking, half very serious. "Roy is a movie star, and the whole seedy side of LA is his audience."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Cole asked, genuinely confused.

Stefan turns and leads him out of the office. "Stick with me kid, you'll find out," he said, warmly.

* * *

He heard the clatter of a curtain being pulled shut, which was a relief since the sun's rays were making his eyes burn even when they were closed. He cracked them open and was met by the sight of a homely room with a fireplace and an end table with a vase of flowers. He sighed, which made him cough, and tried to sit up, but every fiber of his body screamed in protest and he groaned instead.

"You are awake, my darling!" Elsa said. Her hand gripped his. He squinted up at her, barely making out her features. Either they like to keep the room dark or his eyes don't want to work right.

"Elsa? You're alright?" he says. He almost doesn't recognize the croak that is his voice.

"You saved me, meine Traumprince," she said. "You saved us both, Mr. Kelso and me."

"Right," Cole said, racking his brain. Everything after his encounter with Ira Hogeboom was a blur. He remembered struggling with Elsa through the tunnels until he found the grate with Herschel looking down, helping both her and Jack get through and then…a lot of water.

In those final moments, he had had the debilitating belief that he was going to die. But no, someone had grabbed a hold of him and when they both should have been pulled under…a miracle had apparently happened.

He looked up at Elsa, who had knelt beside his bed. "Who saved me?"

"That was Detective Biggs. He reached down to help you. We thought he was going to fall and then…" she looked away. Releasing his hand, she stood up and crossed her arms over her chest.

"What is it? Tell me," Cole pressed.

When she turned back towards him, her expression was that of anger. "I cannot say it now. Please, my darling, you need sleep."

A face in the gloom. "Was it Roy Earle?"

Through the darkness, he saw her grimace. "He ruined you. He did not deserve to show his face."

"He was _there_?" Confirming this was important. He wanted to be sure the last thing he had seen wasn't just a hallucination.

She sighed. "Detective Biggs was going to fall. Mr. Earle must have seen."

"He helped me too?"

Elsa looked away again and didn't reply. A headache that had been developing since he woke up suddenly threatened to split his head in two. He just wanted, _needed _to be sure.

He grabbed her arm, more firmly than necessary. "Tell me! Did Roy help Herschel pull me up?"

Elsa pulled back, alarmed, as he glared at her. "Yes," she said, at last, her lower lip trembling slightly.

Cole laid back, his head hitting the too-flat pillow, rubbing his temples. He winced when another jolt of agony tore through his forehead.

"Are you in pain? I will get the doctor," Elsa said before slipping quietly out the door. Cole didn't have the strength nor the will to tell her to stay.

* * *

Barely a few steps outside of the Vice department's office with Roy Earle ahead of him and Cole had already concluded that his new partner did indeed walk with a swagger.

"You and the Lieutenant have some history?" Cole asked.

The near-constant smirk on Roy's face grew. "You could say that. We used to be partners." They walked in silence for a moment, before he continued, "So you're working with the big boys now, Cole!"

"I guess so, Roy. I thought Homicide was the primo assignment." It had made sense at the time, to think that murder might be more important than drugs.

"That may be the case…I asked for you personally, Phelps." Roy looked back over his shoulder and grinned at Cole. "I had to pull a few strings to get you over to Ad Vice. How does it feel?"

_So that was how it happened_, Cole thought. He wondered how much of his promotion had actually been because of his own merit.

"The Lieutenant seems to think I'm doing okay," he said.

"Okay?" Roy chuckled. "Don't get humble on me, Phelps. You're doing great. You're the department pin-up boy. War hero and crime fighter. What a combination." They stepped outside as Roy said that last. He turned and lightly tossed his keys to Cole, who caught them without thinking.

"I can assure you I'm no war hero, Detective," he said in a tone he hoped would close the matter. This made Roy raise an eyebrow and he paused in his walk towards the shiny maroon Cadillac that was beckoning to them. He didn't say anything, but the way his eyes scanned over the whole of Cole's form, starting from his gray fedora and slowly making their way down to the tips of his shoes and back up again, said plenty. That searching glance left Cole momentarily stunned with confusion as Roy opened the passengers-side door and settled inside where he lit a cigarette. When Cole took a second too long to respond, Roy glanced up and patted the leather-bound seat next to him. Cole shook himself out of his daze and slipped into the driver's seat, pointedly ignoring Roy's low chuckle.

* * *

Herschel patted him on the back with a rare smile when he walked into the Arson office. He had been released from his two-day tenure in the hospital the previous day. Today would be the day they would have to make a full report on the Ira Hogeboom case. Cole wasn't sure how ready mentally he was for this, but he would rather it be soon than put it off for later.

"Good to see you, Phelps. I didn't think you were gonna pull through," Biggs said. "I can't believe we were that close to losing you."

"I'm here thanks to you, Herschel. I owe you my life," Cole said, seriously.

Herschel waved the thanks aside. "I didn't do anything I'm sure you wouldn't have done for me. I've gotta admit, though, you had me worried. And how's Ms. Lichtmann?"

Cole smiled at him. "She's fine, and of course I would have done the same for you." His grin faded for a moment. "I don't remember much. I need to ask you something."

"Shoot," Herschel said.

"If Kelso was trying to protect Elsa, did Roy Earle help you pull me up?"

Herschel looked taken aback, but he nodded. "Yeah, he did. Good thing, too, or else we would both be out at sea."

Cole pressed his fingers to his temples. "I saw him, but I thought I was imagining it."

"I dunno where he came from. Seems like he just popped up out of nowhere to help and then left before Patrol got there."

Cole glanced up at his partner, who looked as mystified as he felt. So, no one had seen Roy arrive. Herschel had been focused on saving Cole, Jack, and Elsa. But that didn't answer the question of _why_ Roy had been there in the first place.

"Did he say anything to you?" Cole said.

"Not much. Just that he called dispatch and an ambulance would get there soon," Herschel said.

"I still don't understand what he was doing there," Cole said.

Herschel shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine, Phelps. He'll have to give a report to the Captain just like us. He can't get out of that so easy. I guess we'll find out then."

Cole nodded in agreement, although he felt no closer to an answer than he had when he had woken up in the hospital.

* * *

He learned to take Roy's jibes about his appearance and his moral ideals in stride. He even ignored it when Roy called their cases "dates," always feigning an affectionate, longing tone. Despite their conflicts, however, Cole had to admit his partner was effective at what he did. Roy had a keen eye for evidence and a persistence when dealing with suspects that got results. Although, more than once, Cole criticized Roy's tendency to intimidate their suspects into submission rather than question them appropriately.

Roy didn't beat around the bush. When he wanted an answer, he got it, even if he had to be painfully blunt. He was far more cynical than the charming image Cole had attributed to him when they first met. But if their captain had no issue with Roy's methods, then Cole would bite his tongue and go on with his work.

That is, until after a particular case when they were assigned to investigate the death of a guns-dealer who liked to smuggle his product inside the barrels of his rifles. At one point, while they were picking their way through the crime scene, Cole saw his partner inspecting the rifles more thoroughly than usual. He would have mentioned it, but he hadn't wanted to disturb Roy's work, knowing his partner would share his findings later on, anyway.

They discovered their lead, but seeing as it was very late, they decided not to pursue it until the next day. Cole had no desire to sneak into his house and risk getting an earful from his wife about being away from home so long into the night. Roy must have seen his hesitation, because he said, "What's wrong, Phelps? Too antsy to go home to the wife and kids? The Blue Room's closed for tonight, sorry."

That earned him a glare from Cole. Of course, Roy would know about his regular attendance to the Blue Room. He only hoped his partner hadn't guessed at his motive.

"I'm not tired, I guess," he said, vaguely, not meeting Roy's eyes.

Roy's smirk widened. "Well, if insomnia's biting you, how about joining me for a good time?"

Cole sat straighter in the driver's seat of the Cadillac. "I'm not interested in going to the bar tonight."

"The bar's good, but I've got something else in mind if you're up for it," Roy said.

Cole peered at him, caution apparent in his expression, but he didn't think Roy would actually do anything to hurt him or jeopardize the case. What did he have to lose? At Roy's easy smile, he relaxed. "All right. Where to?"

They drove for twenty minutes, Roy doling out directions at every other intersection. Eventually, Cole turned into a small bluff much like the one over the Central Division's building. The only light came from the roadside lamps beneath them. Roy told him to park underneath two large trees with low, overgrown branches. Cole stopped the car and turned to look at Roy, genuine perplexity on his face. Roy reached into his coat and pulled out a small plastic bag with green, stringy leaf inside.

"_Roy!_" Cole said, struggling to keep his voice down. "Is that from the rifles?"

"The department got enough samples to put the perp away and we have a lead to follow. Nobody's going to miss this bit," Roy said. He also withdrew some paper and used the leaf to roll a joint with disturbingly expert hands. He held up his work between his thumb and forefinger and grinned enticingly at Cole. "Care to try?"

Cole's eyebrows slammed together as he glared at his partner. "Is this why you brought me here?"

"You tried it before? In school? College? Don't tell me you were always such a tight-ass," Roy said. "It's very relaxing if you use the right stuff, you know. Life just kinda…" the fingers of his free hand fluttered in the air, "…floats away."

"I don't want it to float away," Cole said, sternly.

"Not even tempted? I'll try it first, if you're nervous," Roy said. He leaned across the seat and set one hand on Cole's leg while the other held the joint in his open palm.

"I don't need to get high," Cole said. He tried to chase off the hand on his leg, but it refused to budge.

"There's nothing like it to loosen up after a long day of work." The hand slipped off Cole's leg to grab a lighter, but Cole could feel its ghost on his flesh.

He watched, partly in disgust, partly in morbid fascination that Roy could be so bold, as his partner lit the joint and took a long drag, his lips wrapped almost sensually around the end. He blew a curling snake of smoke into the air. When he returned his gaze to Cole's, his eyes burned just a little brighter.

"It's good and ready for you," he said, once again offering the white stick to Cole.

Cole pursed his lips in distaste. "I'll pass." He reached for the handle of the door.

Roy fairly pouted. "So that's a no? I'm hurt, Phelps. And after all I did to try and make it special for you."

Cole rolled his eyes. "Does the Captain know you're 'borrowing' evidence from crime scenes?"

The grin that was plastered over Roy's face told Cole all he needed to know. He'd had enough. He opened the driver's side door and stepped out. "I'm going for a walk. I'll be back when you're finished."

Roy's expression dimmed a little, but he waved as Cole turned and melted into the darkness underneath the trees. Cole wandered around the top-side of the bluff, staring up at the stars, trying to appreciate their beauty un-obscured by the city lights. But every time he tried, he would picture the doped up sneer he knew would be waiting for him and the beauty would be soured.

Roy spared him a glance out of glazed eyes when he came back. "Have a nice stroll?"

Cole grunted in reply and started the engine. He would drive Roy back to his apartment and take a cab home. It didn't feel right letting Roy drive in this condition (though he knew his partner had likely done it before). Neither of them spoke on the way. Roy rested his head back, his eyes closed, sadly looking more relaxed than Cole had seen him for a while.

When they pulled into the parking lot of Roy's impressive apartment building, Roy's smile vanished as he peered up at Cole, "Want me to call a cab?"

"I'll take care of it," Cole said, gesturing to a nearby street phone. "See you tomorrow." He started to climb out of the car, but froze when he felt fingers close around his wrist.

"What's wrong, partner," Roy said, nearly spitting out the last word like something distasteful. "Did I make you sick tonight? Need to leave so quickly because you can't stand the sight of me?" He sneered.

"Roy," Cole said, sighing, "Go get some sleep." He gently shook Roy's hand off.

"Right. Good night," Roy said, though he stayed where he was, covering his eyes with a palm. He stayed like that until Cole rounded the street corner and lost sight of him.

They never spoke of the incident and Roy never invited Cole to do anything after hours again.

* * *

Cole gasped for air after a horrifying moment when he thought he would never be able to breathe again. His sweaty hands were fisted in the sheets beneath him and the rushing of the torrent of water reverberated in his ears. Which was worse, he wondered. His nightmares about the explosion of Sugar Loaf and the cave of screaming civilians or the nightmares of that night in the river tunnels? With both plaguing his sleep, every night felt like a slow torture for his sanity and he woke up feeling more weary than when he had first laid down.

The bed beside him was empty. Elsa must have gone to work early. She sometimes joined him for an afternoon nap like today, but she would usually still be there when he woke up. After Marie had thrown him out, he had turned to her, hoping that she would take mercy on him during his time of need. She had gone above and beyond his expectations, letting him have free range of both her house and her bed. She was an angel to be so kind to a shamed man like him.

But nowadays, there was a tension between them that hadn't been there before. He was still grateful to her for everything she had done, of course, but he could tell something was different. The way she looked at him with adoration would have melted the worry around his heart before, but now it irritated him. For the space of two weeks after his release from the hospital, she had doted on him like a mother bird, leaving him wanting for a little space. Now it seemed that space was growing, the distance widening with every aloof smile he gave her. She knew his thoughts lay elsewhere and she could probably guess their direction, although he had been very careful not to give her any hint of his current obsession. The one thing he couldn't control, however, were the dreams that made Roy's name escape his lips.

Roy had given a brief, dismissive report about his part in the rescue separately from Herschel and Cole. Apart from that, Cole had seen neither hide nor hair of his former partner for weeks. He heard about Roy, of course, given that the Vice department loved to let everyone know about their successes, but the only time Cole saw Roy now was in the newspaper.

It was infuriating. The one man he desperately wanted -_needed-_ to talk to was out of his reach. It was a far cry from before, when he would have been happier to tear Roy limb from limb rather than look at him. But he wanted answers and that need was far more pressing than any desire for revenge.

He couldn't just waltz up to Roy's apartment and knock on the door. Besides the risk of rejection, he had no idea when the detective would be home. The thought of going to the Vice department to search for him was equally humiliating, to face the jeers of his former fellows. And Roy seemed to be avoiding the Wilshire Division's building. The only other option Cole could think to do was to stake out the Blue Room and the bars he could remember as being Roy's favorites. Cole preferred the Blue Room because at least he was giving Elsa some sense of security and Roy would know he was there if he really wanted to find him. While his eyes used to be glued to Elsa for the entire night, now he watched the door, not daring to blink in case he missed a single glimpse of salmon-pink suit.

* * *

After his first night with Elsa, he was worried that his guilt over his night of sin would be etched into his face for all to see. He had gone home to Marie, claiming that he had had to work over time when it was unavoidable. She hadn't had any reason to disbelieve him. Roy had greeted him with his usual nod and smirk at the restaurant where they were going to interview Mickey Cohen and so the tight knot of tension in Cole's gut had released just a little bit.

After his interview with Courtney Sheldon weeks later, he found out the truth the hard way. Roy had betrayed him and his secret to their captains. How could he have been so damn blind?

For the longest time, he was sure that if he had seen Roy face-to-face, he would have slammed his fist into the other detective's jaw. Luckily for both of them, there was no need for any potential assault charges. Cole couldn't guess the motive behind Roy's actions and he eventually convinced himself that he didn't care; which was the reason he didn't act with more hostility when Roy strode into the Blue Room during Cole's investigation of the Suburban Redevelopment Fund and Elysian Fields and sat down at his table with a flourish.

"Buy me a drink, Cole?" he said.

"No," Cole replied, more loudly than he'd intended.

"Not even for old time's sake?" Roy said.

"Not even for that." Cole kept his eyes averted, not wanting to face the shit-eating grin he knew the other man was wearing.

There was a pause before Roy said, "You're not going to ask me why I'm here?"

"I wouldn't give you the pleasure. You'll get around to it." They knew each other too well, although Cole would have preferred it if they didn't. He tried to turn his attention back to Elsa, tried to let her voice wash over him, to take his troubled mind off of this intrusion.

"She's in fine voice this evening," Roy started, his tone conversational. "I wonder how the Commander would feel about…"

"Save the threats for someone who cares about them, Roy."

Roy sighed a little. "You're breaking my heart, Cole. You know how I feel about you…"

They fell into another silence. Cole had no desire to look at Roy, to see his expression after he had said that last bit. When Roy spoke again, Cole was almost surprised at the seriousness he heard. "Stay away from Elysian Fields."

Cole tutted. "I should have known that you were playing errand boy."

Roy continued as though he hadn't said anything. "You and your doofus partner. You have been warned."

"Thanks for your cooperation, Officer," Cole said with finality, wanting to make it clear his days of being intimidated by Roy's antics were over.

Another pause. This time, the way Roy's next words wavered, just a tiny bit, surprised Cole, though he wasn't going to be fooled again. "Stay away. You have no idea the type of people that are involved in that company."

He finally turned towards Roy, sick of the other man's gall. "I have a pretty good idea, Roy. The same kind of people that sent you here."

This was the first time he had actually looked at Roy - really _looked_ at Roy - since Cole's demotion. He expected to see the same arrogance and condescension that everyone else on the LAPD had been giving him. But although everything Roy had said to him thus far smacked of pride, Cole was startled to observe how _tired_ the man looked. He was paler than Cole remembered him and it had nothing to do with the lighting in the room. The dark circles under Roy's eyes made him wonder just how well his former partner had been sleeping as of late.

He didn't have much more than a moment to ponder this when Roy said, "Your investigation is finished. Homicide will be taking over from here." He put his hands on the table and pushed himself up. "I've heard we've had a spate of grass fires in the hills you and that hunchback might be able to handle."

Cole bristled at the insult, more indignant that Roy should speak in that manner about Herschel, who, in the short time Cole had known him, had proven himself to be at least one-hundred-times better a man than Roy, in Cole's opinion. He didn't favor the man with a reply.

"Thanks for the drink, Cole," Roy said before walking passed their table and towards the door.

* * *

It was well into the night and after several drinks that Cole decided he had had enough. Drink and weariness were settling inside him, making his bones ache and his eyes droop. He had wasted his entire evening trying to distract himself from memories of nightmares and torturing himself with the hope that his former partner would inexplicably appear if he waited long enough.

But why should he? Cole had made his anger apparent that night and every rare meeting between them thereafter. Roy was smarter than to pursue him just to be yelled at.

_That didn't stop him from following you to the river tunnels. Or saving you_, Cole reminded himself. His shoulders slumped as his logic hit a brick wall. The smug tone of Roy's taunting didn't match up at all with the expression of concern that he so clearly remembered seeing just before blacking out after being rescued. None of it made sense.

He felt a soft hand on his arm and his eyes shot up, heart leaping, only to be somewhat disappointed to find himself staring up at Elsa's pretty face.

"Shall we go, meine süße?" she said.

Cole glanced around the nearly deserted room, his eyes burning a little. He nodded. "Yeah, let's go."

That night, even as he was wrapped in Elsa's arms, more nightmares of fire and water came, of burning and drowning. He would always be on the brink of surrendering to the darkness when he would be yanked away and the pain would ebb. He would gasp in relief and face the person who had saved him to give his sincere thanks and that person would always be…

His eyes shot open when he felt himself being shaken. He sat up and grabbed the hands on his shoulders. Elsa had been leaning over him in her nightgown and, as he tried to make out her face in the darkness, he could tell she was near tears.

"What's wrong?" he said.

"You…you sounded as though you were hurt and you…" she said, then averted her gaze, "You called for him again."

"Him?" he asked, although he knew without a doubt whom she was referring to.

"Mr. Earle…I don't understand. Why do you…why do you dream of him?" she said, her expression hardening. "He made you unhappy!"

"He saved me, Elsa. I'm alive because of him and Herschel," Cole said. "I've thanked Herschel, but I haven't thanked Earle."

"He does not deserve your thanks," Elsa persisted. "He has not begun to make his mistake up to you."

"Don't say that," Cole said. "Don't ever say that. He saved my life. I'd say that's a big step."

"How do you know he didn't do it so he could torment you more?" Elsa shook her head, dismayed. "It isn't fair."

Cole raised an eyebrow. "Do you seriously think he would do something like that?" Even after all his faults and pride, he couldn't imagine Roy as the type of person who would cut you and heal you just so he could cut you again. More like he would cut you and gloat about it and move on to his next victim. No, this was different.

When she didn't answer him again, a chill settled in his heart and he slid to his feet off the bed. He muttered something about going in early to finish paperwork while he pulled on one of his suits, although he was positive she wouldn't be convinced. The chill would never dissipate, slowly freezing over itself again and again when she looked at him in pity and frustration until he couldn't bear the ice any longer.

* * *

Courtney Sheldon lay limp and lifeless on the pavement, much like his other comrades from their troop had, after a long and undignified series of battles against the crime lords of LA. It pierced Cole's heart to think that it should end this way.

"What have you got?" he asked the patrol officer.

"Looks like a drug overdose," the uniform told him. That was before his ears were met with a familiar and unwelcome drawl.

"Get away from him, Phelps. This is _my_ case."

Something inside Cole snapped. He whirled around to face Roy and his voice nearly exploded. "Shut your fucking mouth! Since when does a bagman work a case?"

If Roy had looked tired the last time they met, he looked downright exhausted and a bit haggard now. His boastful humor was gone, his pretenses shed. It was obvious he had been through a rough time recently, but Cole could care less at that moment.

"I knew this creep was in on the morphine heist. Victim of his own product." Roy turned away in thought.

Cole had heard enough. He withdrew his gun and aimed it at Roy's back.

"Hey, detective! Can we back it off a notch? This is getting out of hand," the patrol officer said, arm raised as though to try and calm him. But it was too late for that.

Herschel hurried over and pushed the boy back, for which Cole would be eternally grateful. "There's a time to talk and a time to shut up. Now is a time to be quiet, son."

"Courtney Sheldon was a corpsman, Roy," Cole began, his gaze and gun trained in the same spot. "He served his country. He went out with a medical kit and an Army .45 into places that made the Valley of Death look like a picnic! He was either naïve enough or dumb enough to get involved in the Suburban Redevelopment Fund along with the mayor, the DA, Monroe, and a_ certain crooked cop_." He nodded in emphasis. "He _was_ involved in the morphine heist, but he has a puncture wound in his jugular, which makes this a murder case. He was a better man than you'll ever know. You say one more word about him and I will _blow your_ _fucking head off_!"

Roy watched him levelly throughout his entire speech, grimacing almost imperceptibly at the 'crooked cop' comment and at the way Cole's rage built to a fine peak like the climax of a thunderstorm. At the end of Phelps's speech, Roy's lips drew into a thin line and the circles under his eyes darkened. Cole wondered if he wasn't just trying to keep himself together under the mask of bitterness.

"You've finally lost it, partner," Roy said. And finally, _finally_, there was a low, buried tone of defeat in his voice. After dozens of reflections on this moment, Cole wondered if the defeat was because of the case, or because of him.

He couldn't afford to back down now. His voice became calm and lethal. "I have a pretty good idea why Sheldon's dead and I know about Monroe. Your vast, corrupt future is draining away as we speak."

Roy grimaced one last time, but then immediately straightened his shoulders and chuckled, determined to salvage himself in the face of Cole's rage. "I got better things to do than argue the rub with you."

He paused and Cole waited to see if he would say something else. Instead, Roy looked away, shaken in such a way that only Cole's eyes, trained to see insecurities in the men that had once served under him, could see. He stepped back and put his gun back inside his shoulder holster.

"Stay with him until the coroner gets here," Cole told the Patrol officer. "Make sure technical services bags the evidence. You let this creep anywhere near it, I'll come looking for you."

The officer was pale, but not as pale as Roy. "Yes, sir." He stepped in front of Roy, blocking any temptation Roy might have had to pursue Cole and Herschel.

As Cole rejoined his partner, Herschel said in a voice warm with respect, "You know, Phelps, you're not the worst asshole goin' around."

Cole cracked a small smile. "Thanks Herschel." As they drove away, Cole kept his gaze level with the road, resisting the temptation to glance back and look back at the crime scene. Even then, he knew that particular image of Roy would forever haunt his memory.

* * *

He was surprised to see so many people in the office that early in the morning and for a stomach-dropping moment, he was afraid something terrible had happened. He threw open the door and rushed inside, nearly bowling over a couple innocent patrol officers in the process. He made his way up to his office and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Herschel.

"Phelps, what's wrong with you?" Herschel said, noting Cole's agitation.

"You tell me. Why's everyone here?" Cole said.

"Press finally got word of the Hogeboom incident and all the scandal that led up to it. Department tried hard to keep it all quiet, but somebody leaked out the whole story," Herschel said, bitterly. "You might wanna get your lines ready. The captain will try his best to keep them satisfied, but they might want you to make a statement."

Cole's heart sank. This was turning out to be a fine morning, indeed. He rubbed his face as though trying to scrub away any signs of sleep.

Herschel watched him for a moment and then said, "Think you're going to be all right? Need some coffee?"

"That sounds great, actually," Cole said. He sat down heavily at his desk and buried his face in his hands. The last thing he wanted right then was to relive any minute of that night, from his battle with the thugs, to his encounter with Ira, to his near-submerging. He would have to keep his answers vague, yet closed to interpretation. God, he had started hating the press more and more recently.

McKelty barged into their office, disheveled and high-strung. His assistant and a couple detectives looked on from the door. McKelty's eyes roved around the room until they fell on Cole.

"Phelps," he said, striding over and pointing his finger a few inches away from Cole's nose, "The reporters are going to be waiting for your statements like a bunch of doped up greedy whores. I'll try to make 'em happy, buy they'll want to milk you for what you're worth. For God's sake, think before you open your trap. If you say one word – one word – to embarrass this department, I'll have you out of here faster than a…"

Cole had been watching McKelty intently, trying to assure him captain of his diligence, until a split-second when his gaze strayed back to the door. At first, he thought his eyes might be playing a cruel trick on him as a result of the stress and frustration of the past few weeks. But he blinked and passed a hand in front of his eyes, and looked again.

There he was, in his salmon-gray suit, standing in the doorway with the other detectives, and he didn't disappear like the mirage that Cole expected him to be. A sly grin appeared when their eyes met. He looked to be far less exhausted than the last time they had met over Sheldon's body.

"You hear me, Cole?" McKelty snapped.

A tap on his shoulder from Herschel brought his attention back to the situation at hand. "Yes captain. I understand," he said, quickly.

McKelty sighed and passed a hand through his balding hair. "You and Biggs do wonders for us, Cole. I told you before I heard you were a good case worker and now I've seen it with my own eyes. Don't ruin this for yourself."

"Of course not, sir. But why is Detective Earle here?" Cole asked.

McKelty followed his gaze over to the man in question and frowned.

"Word that he was at the tunnels got out, too. He's representing himself and the Vice Squad," McKelty said.

"Long time, no see, Cole. How's the Land of the Living treating you?" Roy said.

No happy refrains, no soft look or questions about his health. Then again, if he had heard those sorts of things coming from Roy's mouth, hell's denizens would have to start wearing parkas.

Cole stood up and met him gaze-for-gaze. "I'm here, which is more than I could have asked for."

"You can catch up later," McKelty interrupted. "The first wave will be here soon."

All the things Cole wanted to say to Roy would have to wait. He watched McKelty, Roy, and the officers leave and tried to steal his nerves for the media.

"'Bout time I went to get us that coffee. I have a feelin' we'll need it," Herschel said.

* * *

The specifics of Elsa's kidnapping and the full corruption of the city's officials were carefully avoided or left out entirely. McKelty managed to keep the reporters focused on the incident with Hogeboom and the escape from the river tunnels. For the present, the press was satisfied with an explanation as to why thousands of gallons of water had shot out onto the surface.

As Cole watched the proceedings, he felt a weight like a lead ball lower onto his gut. After Herschel finished giving his comments around noon, Cole stood to address them. The flashing lights of the cameras threatened to blind him and the constant scratching of pens on notepads sounded like a whispering. Their questions came one after another like bullets aimed for his heart, about the investigation, his reaction, and his hospital stay. If anyone tried to bring up his affair with Elsa, he deflected it immediately as not applying to the topic at hand.

It wasn't until they wanted a detailed account of his escape from the river tunnels that it all came crashing down. As he described the darkness and the water, he _saw_ it in his mind. He saw the faces of Jack, Elsa, and Herschel above him, panic-stricken. The whispering of the pens became screams and then the roaring of water over concrete walls. He couldn't suck in enough air and sweat rolled down his neck. He was slipping underneath the water again. He glanced through blurred vision at Herschel, who was staring at him with an expression bordering alarm.

Cole's knees buckled and he sank to the ground in front of everyone, the reporters, the detectives, McKelty, Herschel…Roy…The crowd was changed into a towering wall of water, a surge about to swallow him whole…

"The Vice Department commends Detective Phelps for his bravery. I'll be taking questions now."

Cole stared up at the figure of Roy, who had stepped in between him and the barrage of reporters. The torrent relented. His hands shook as he _breathed_; the air rattled in his lungs. Herschel pulled him to his feet with a tight grip on his arm and led him to a bench outside the door, on which he collapsed.

"Jesus, Phelps, you know how to put on a show." Herschel handed him a handkerchief from his coat pocket, which Cole took gratefully and used to mop his sweaty face.

"Thanks, Hersch," he said, his voice sounding distant and muffled even to him.

"Sit tight. After Earle is done, it'll be all over."

Cole nodded, but didn't reply. He could hear Roy telling the story of how he had seen Herschel at the scene and witnessed him pulling up "Ms. Lichtmann and Mr. Kelso" and had rushed over to assist however he could. He still did not explain what he had been doing there in the first place, though.

When asked if he had an opinion on "Detective Phelps's breakdown" just a few moments previous, Roy said, "The recovery process is often long and involved. We are confident he'll be back in top shape in no time."

Cole wished he could see Roy right then, to see his face while he said these things.

"Is the police department concerned that his condition will adversely affect his performance in the line of duty?" one reporter continued. Cole tensed.

Roy's strong voice rang out over the press with unquestionable authority. "Cole Phelps is the best kind of man. A war hero who led his men with true valor…and, through his personal bravery, achieved one of his country's highest honors. A cop wrongly accused, who has never lost his faith in the LAPD and the system…" Cole couldn't believe his ears. "A detective who has fought to expose the evil corruption of the murderous Dr. Fontaine and the rapacious property tycoon Leland Monroe. A reformer who recognizes the need to remove the odd bad apple from a department made of good men. A man who never gives up. Continues to fight the good fight…a fight that almost cost him his life. A good husband, a good father, and, may I say, a good friend."

The press practically exploded. The sounds of flashes were like popcorn popping. McKelty was trying his damned best to quell the meeting from turning into a riot, telling them that the interview was over and that the police department would not be answering any more questions. Cole remained frozen in his place until he saw Roy emerge from the door, escorted out by a pair of officers.

Roy's voice penetrated Cole's shocked state of mind. "Look alive, Cole." As he passed, Cole followed him like his gaze was being drawn by a magnet, his mouth lax and open.

_Don't let him run. __**Don't let him run!**_He shot off the bench and glanced at Herchel, who shrugged.

"You do what you gotta do to get peace of mind. We'll handle everything here," he said.

"Thank you," Cole said. His heart pounded as he gave pursuit.

_Don't let him get away!_

He caught up with them just in front of the entrance to the building.

"Earle! Wait!"

Roy paused and turned slowly to look at him. Cole knew he must look a sight, sweaty, his eyes probably bloodshot, and breathing heavily like he had run a marathon.

"What do you need Phelps? I'm a busy man," Roy said.

"Need…to talk to you," Cole said between pants.

Roy's gave a lop-sided smile and nodded to the uniformed officers on either side of him. "We're fine, thanks. Go on back up."

The uniforms looked uneasy, but they knew better than to argue. Once they were alone, Cole wasn't sure quite how to begin. After a moment, Roy said, "Well, that was fun, wasn't it? Like old times, but without the promise of a raise afterwards."

"Earle, what _was _that?" Cole said.

"What was what, exactly? And are we not on a first-name basis anymore or something?" Roy said, shoving his hands into his suit pockets.

"Fine, Roy. What the hell was all that you said to them at the end?"

"That bit about you and the war?"

"And Elsa!"

"I thought it sounded good, myself. Got them off our backs, didn't it?" Roy said, as though that explained everything.

"Got them off _our _backs?" Cole said, incredulous.

"I'd have thought you would be more grateful to me, Cole. I just saved you from being eaten alive." Roy sneered. "If you want, I can go back in there and tell them I was just kidding."

He took a step back down the hall. Cole blocked his path. Roy raised his eyebrows.

"Listen, they're going to run with that claim of you being falsely accused until it's bigger than the actual story about the tunnels. If you shut up and let them do it, you might be able to save your face, yet," he said.

"Why do you care?" Cole said. "How does it help you?"

"Distracting the press away from interpreting official police business is never a bad thing, Cole," Roy said. "Like I said, it got them off our backs. Now, is that all you wanted? I meant what I said about being busy, you know."

"No, that's not all," Cole said, shaking his head vehemently. "I need to…tell you." He paused, hoping this didn't sound as lame as he thought. "Thank you…for what you did that night."

"Saving your ass, you mean?"

"Why did you…"

"_Now_ you're questioning why I bothered? That's some kind of gratitude you've got," Roy said, chuckling. It didn't deter Cole. He wanted to see this through.

"At least let me buy you a drink."

Roy fell silent for a moment, his eyes taking in all of Cole's form like they once had all those months ago when they had first become partners. "All right, Cole. You owe me a drink after you shut me down before, remember?"

Cole took a shuddering breath and nodded.

"So, where at? The Blue Room at eight?" Roy said.

"No," Cole said, too quickly. Roy raised an eyebrow. "Not…the Blue Room."

"Something wrong with it? I thought you were addicted to the place."

"I…it's a long story," Cole peered at the ground.

"Oh?" Roy's smile took on a predatory hint and his voice lowered so only Cole could hear. "Does the long story have anything to do with a certain Ms. Lichtmann? Not everything right in paradise?"

A hot indignity filled Cole's chest. How could this man have said such admirable things about him to the press and then act like this right to his face? Unless all that really had been a ruse to distract the media away from the department. For some reason, he had been fervently hoping that wasn't the case.

"Fuck off," he said.

"Easy, Phelps, easy. Just a joke," Roy raised his hands, palms outward in an unarmed gesture. "I see almost dying hasn't jarred that stick up your ass. So, if not the Blue Room, where?"

Cole took a couple of deep breaths to calm himself and said, "Pick one. It'll be on me."

Roy gave him the address for a higher-end restaurant with a bar that they had often passed in the car while they had been partners. Even if it was pricey, Cole wasn't about to complain. This opportunity was too important to pass up.

"Tell you what, Phelps. Buy me dinner, and I'll even forget you were rude," Roy said, grinning inanely. Cole watched him through the window as he climbed into his Cadillac and took off. Memories of the war and all the times his life had been endangered aside, waiting until eight o' clock was going to be the most difficult thing he had ever done.

* * *

Roy was about twenty minutes late and the light-hearted chords of the piano in the corner of the restaurant's dining room was doing nothing to calm Cole's nerves. He couldn't decide if he was relieved or annoyed by the other man's absence. He was seated at a table for two draped in a mahogany table cloth, pouring over the wine menu. He was tempted to order a bottle just to relax the tension in his gut, but he wasn't sure what would appeal to Roy's undoubtedly specific tastes.

At long last, he set down the wine menu and rubbed his eyes wearily.

"Relax, Phelps. You look like you're going to keel over any second."

Cole glanced up to see Roy slide into the chair across from him. He didn't look hurried or concerned that he was late.

"Look, they brought us a candle and everything," he said, eyeing the fixture in the middle of the table. The lighting in the building was dim and the candle light made the skin of Roy's face take on a softer hue. Cole wondered if it had the same effect on him. "Really sets the mood, doesn't it?"

"And what mood would that be?" Cole said, trying to divert his thoughts from the way Roy's blue eyes suddenly looked darker.

"Use your imagination, Cole," Roy said, with a suggestive lift of his eyebrows. Cole was suddenly glad that the dim light could cover up the heat that went to his cheeks. Was Roy actually suggesting…?"

Roy gestured to the wine menu. "Anything look good?"

Cole straightened his shoulders. Of course, he hadn't meant anything by it. "I wasn't sure what you'd like," he said.

"If it's good enough for you, I'll take it," Roy said, shrugging. A waiter came by and dropped off the food menus, which Roy began perusing. Cole took a moment to breathe and calm down. The air between them had never been this pregnant with some feeling he couldn't identify. Even while they had been partners, there had usually been nothing but a companionable silence (when there _was_ silence) right up until the end.

They ordered their meals and Cole got a bottle of Bordeaux for which Roy grinned his approval. Afterwards, the silence stretched, only punctuated by the piano. It wasn't uncomfortable, just ripe with things left unsaid. Cole knew what he wanted to say, but for the first time in many years, he wasn't sure how to begin saying them. Hopefully, the wine would loosen his tongue.

"The department's changed since you've been around, Phelps," Roy said, peering at him. "I didn't think McKelty had the balls to take charge of a press conference like that."

"I don't think I had anything to do with that," Cole said.

"Still humble as ever, I see."

The waiter came back with the Bordeaux and poured the wine into a couple tall, thin-rimmed glasses. Roy lit a cigarette, though his eyes never left Cole's face until after the waiter left.

"Shall we toast?" he asked.

"I don't see why not. To what?" Cole said.

"You just brought down one of the biggest insurance scams this city has ever seen."

_Of which you were apart,_ Cole thought. "And came out of it in one piece, thanks to you," he said out loud.

Roy flashed a glimpse of white teeth with his grin and he raised his glass. "To us, then."

Cole followed suit. "To us."

Their glasses chinked together and they both took a drink, Cole drawing his out a bit longer. The piano went from playing a jazz number to something slow and sentimental. Cole snuck a peek at his companion, who was being unusually quiet for their situation. He hadn't thought twice about speaking in front of the press about Cole earlier that day. If ever there was a time to breach the subject he was planning to, now was it.

He set his glass down and took a deep breath. "Roy, I wanted to thank you for everything you did that night. I meant what I said…"

"I know you did, Phelps. You usually don't babble," Roy said.

Cole paused. "I just never thought you actually cared enough to do something like that for me."

"Would you have preferred me to let you die because it was more convenient for me?" Roy said.

"And then you told the newspapers that I never slept with Elsa and…"

"I told you, that was to throw them off."

"You told them I was a hero…"

"According to most of the people in this city, you've got the makings of one," Roy said. His smile had slowly faded during their miniature argument. "You can't tell me you don't hear people talking when you come within a mile of them. Scandal aside, they still remember you as the man that saves LA."

Cole paused, flustered, and took another swig of wine. He had set out to thank Roy and the conversation had been turned back to him again. He cleared his throat.

"I don't want you to think I'm ungrateful. I really am…there's just one thing I don't understand," he said.

"Oh? What's that, star detective?"

"What were you doing at the river tunnels?" Cole said. "The only ones who were called to follow Kelso were the Patrol Squad and the chief."

To his surprise, Roy let out a throaty laugh. "You just can't let anything go until you have all the answers, can you, Cole?" It was his turn to drain his glass. "I heard about Kelso and got curious. When I got there, I saw Herschel without you. It didn't take rocket science to figure out what was wrong."

But Herschel had been nowhere near the entrance of the river tunnels, which was where all the Patrol officers would have gone. Instead, Roy had found _them_. Cole made a noise of suspicion, but Roy seemed determined to stick by that story. As much as it killed Cole to admit it, he wouldn't get anywhere pressing Roy like this. Roy knew too well how he worked and Cole didn't have any proof that he was lying. He would probably never know the full truth of the matter.

He passed a hand over his eyes to quell the ache developing behind them. This was too nice an evening for an interrogation. Why couldn't he forget his investigative instincts for an hour?

"All right, I believe you," Cole said, relenting.

"Now that wasn't so hard, was it?" Roy said, his crooked smile returning. "Take it easy. You're here now. That's what matters, right?"

Cole was spared from replying when their food was brought out to them. The events of the day had left him with little appetite, but he still dug into his stew like a starving man. He finished before Roy and spent the rest of the time leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed, listening as the pianist played a concerto.

"Sure is different from the Blue Room, but what can I say, I like it here," Roy said. "Thanks for dinner, Phelps. It was good."

Cole slit his eyes open and feigned an expression of worry, "I think so too. So you forgive me?"

"I think I can let it all slide, but just this once," Roy said. They stood and shook hands. Confusion fluttered in Cole's chest when Roy's hand lingered on his a bit longer than he thought was necessary. He watched the strutting gait of his former partner as he left the dining room and then stared at his palm. Christ, but Roy's skin was _warm._

Once he paid up and headed outside, he squinted up at the dark blanket of clouds the night sky had become. He delved through his pockets for the familiar cold metal of his keys, perplexed when he didn't feel them at first. Perplexion turned to anxiety which turned to panic when he dug deeper and still couldn't find them. He peered into his car window and frowned helplessly when he saw them in a comfortable pile right in the middle of the driver's seat. With a sinking heart, he pulled at the door, which refused to open. He must have been so preoccupied getting to the restaurant that he hadn't noticed them drop out of his pocket while getting out of the car. He rested his forehead against the roof of the car and sighed.

On top of all that, it started to drizzle.

"Problems, Phelps?"

Why was it that Roy was perpetually sneaking up on Cole recently? Now his entire car had pulled up beside him and stopped. Cole's expression turned distraught and he pulled on the door handle one last time. Well, Earle had already seen him hit the lowest point of his life, what was one more embarrassment?

"I…ah…I'm locked out," he said, bracing himself for the inevitable mockery.

"Forgot your keys? No locksmith is going to be open this time of night on a Sunday, sorry," Roy said.

"Yeah, you're right. I can call a cab," Cole said. _And go back to Elsa's disapproval._ He grimaced.

"You want to wait out in this?" Roy asked, pointing up at the heavy clouds. He had pulled up the roof of his Cadillac already. "Aren't you a trooper."

Cole shrugged, but didn't reply.

Roy looked thoughtful for a moment and said, "I doubt the department would smile on me if I left a fellow detective stranded like this. Guess it can't be helped…get in."

"What?" Cole stared at him.

"Get in. You can stay at my place for the night."

Another inexplicable rush of heat made Cole's face redden. _There's no reason_, he told himself. _He's just being generous._ He tried not to think of the irony of the name _Roy Earle_ being associated with _generous._

"You don't have to…" he began, but was interrupted.

"Come on, Cole. Don't keep me waiting."

Cole swallowed and got in the passenger's seat. If there was any awkwardness during the drive to Roy's apartment building, Cole seemed to be the only one affected by it. Roy was humming along with whatever song was on the radio. Cole honestly wasn't paying attention. They parked in a side lot just as the drizzle turned to a hard rain. Roy scowled and brushed at the wet spots on his suit coat as though he could dry them faster.

The foyer was like something out of an English palace, all wide open spaces and high ceilings with gold-leafed furnishings. All the best for Hollywood's stars, actors or otherwise. Cole counted five floors as they ascended a side stairwell before Roy veered into a hall. Cole followed him passed a line of comparatively plain-looking doors until they stopped in front of one about halfway down and Roy unlocked it. The detective's living space was just as stylish as he was, with wide couches and a counter against one wall with its own modest inventory of drinks. Try as he might, Cole couldn't imagine Roy hosting his own parties to share his wealth of beverages.

"Something to drink?" Roy asked, following the direction of his gaze.

"Do you have scotch?"

"To wash down the wine? Sure," Roy said. He had shed his hat and coat, placing them on a hanger beside the door, and held his hand out for Cole's things. Shocked, but not wanting to offend the other man, Cole handed over his coat and fedora. He almost expected there to have been a servant to do all of this. Roy was being strangely…accommodating tonight.

"Sit down anywhere. I'll get the drinks," Roy said.

"Thanks. This is a really nice place you've got here," Cole said, sinking down onto the beige couch and crossing his legs.

Roy made a noncommittal noise, which Cole thought was odd, and said, "It serves its purpose."

"It's bigger than…well…" Cole trailed off, trying to figure out if he had been about to say 'Elsa's apartment' or 'my old house.' He rubbed his chin, hoping Roy wouldn't notice his hesitation.

"Like I say, it serves its purpose," Roy said. In between pouring the drinks, he reached over and fiddled with the radio at the end of the counter. It landed on a station playing a series of romantic songs.

"You like this station?" Cole said, curiously, while Roy handed him a glass of amber liquid and took a seat in an adjacent sofa chair.

"You don't?" Roy replied.

"I thought you would be into something more…upbeat."

"I don't just go to the Blue Room to stare at the walls with a cocktail. Elsa doesn't exactly sing the fastest songs," Roy said.

"The paint on the ceiling _is_ peeling," Cole said, smiling.

"Hm. Now I know what _you're _looking at when you're in there."

"Only when you are around."

"Touché." Roy raised his glass, as did Cole. The combination of scotch and Bordeaux was starting to warm Cole's inside and make him feel lighter.

"So? How is the broad at home? Your other home, I mean?" Roy said.

Cole chose to ignore the jibe. "Elsa? She's fine."

"Is she the one who took care of you once you were out of the hospital?"

"Yeah. She was a doll," Cole said, though his voice wasn't as grateful or adoring as it should have been.

"I'm afraid I haven't been around the Blue Room lately to hear her lately," Roy said.

"I've noticed," Cole said, before realizing just how much he had given away.

"Oh? Have you missed me?"

Actually, he had missed Roy more than he cared to admit. When he wasn't cutting anyone down or complaining, Roy was interesting to talk to. Cole just wished they had things other than work to talk about.

_What else is there? The war?_ Cole shivered.

"Cold?" Roy asked. His observational skills were as keen as ever.

"Not cold, just tired, I think I might turn in soon," Cole said.

"You can have the guest room. It's right across from mine," Roy said. "I'll have to get it ready, though. Nobody's stayed in there for a while."

"You don't have to do that for me."

Roy scoffed. "Save the humility, Cole. Stay nice and maybe I'll think you're worth the trouble." He grinned and wiggled his eyebrows in a fashion Cole would have reserved for any number of women on the street. Maybe the alcohol was making him hallucinate. Roy strode to the back and the muffled sounds of rummaging joined the raindrops pattering against the window and the woman's voice crooning over the radio. Cole breathed in the heavy odor of cigarettes and cologne that pervaded the apartment. It was a scent that clung to Roy wherever he went and was ten times stronger in close quarters, such as in a car or an elevator.

Now Cole was surrounded by it and it was having a strange effect on him, eliciting a tug low in his belly that only Elsa had been able to evoke recently. His eyes widened and his breath hitched as his brain finally put a name to the feeling, like fitting a jigsaw piece into a puzzle he hadn't known existed.

God…but…Roy Earle? A man?

…_Why Roy Earle_?

Out of all the people he had ever met, few people had made him dislike them right from the get-go as Roy had. Roy had proven himself to be one of the most crooked and ethically-twisted cops Cole had ever met. He had ruined Cole's marriage, for Christ's sake!

Yet, the image of his face after Cole had been rescued that night outside the river tunnels had never left Cole's mind. Plus, the pair of them had shared a perfectly fine evening and now Cole was sitting in his former partner's living room, getting ready to spend the night in his home.

Things had changed over the months they had known each other. Cole certainly had.

'_You're breaking my heart, Cole. You know how I feel about you…'_

At the time, those words had sounded cynical and mocking. But what if there had been an undercurrent that Cole hadn't been aware of at the time; a hidden emotion like concern that went far beyond the courtesy of partners or even friends?

And then there was a bigger question: what if Cole was starting to return the feeling?

He finished off his drink and let his face fall into his hands. He needed sleep. He felt as physically and emotionally drained as he had after surviving a war and almost being drowned. He set his empty glass on the counter and started towards the bedrooms. The door on the left stood ajar, the light inside creeping into the hallway. He hesitated and pushed the door inwards.

Roy must have been leaving at the same time, because the door lurched forwards, causing Cole to stumble into the other man. He righted himself by placing his other hand underneath Roy's shoulder, just above his heart.

"Sorry," he said, quickly, withdrawing his hands. He tried to ignore his own sputtering heartbeat. He was acting like a schoolgirl!

"Nothing's working for you tonight, is it, Cole?" Roy said with a chuckle. There was nothing special about the way he said Cole's name, but hearing it come from Roy's lips still sent an arrow of warmth to his nether regions. He blamed the scotch. Honestly, there was no evidence that Roy had ever had any interest in him in that way except for some suggestive glances and remarks that could have been attributed to Roy's sardonic nature.

This…attraction Cole was experiencing was probably due to his gratitude for Roy saving his life and standing up for him to the media. There was nothing more between them. Roy would probably be disgusted if he knew what Cole was thinking…

"I think I just need to lie down. I'll be in working condition again in the morning.

"I'm putting the pillows on your bed. Then you can pass out all you want," Roy said. The room was simply furnished with a wooden dresser, a lamp, and a queen-sized bed with a slightly dusty silk comforter.

"Thanks again for all this, Roy. It's a big help," Cole said.

They set about adjusting the pillows. With only one remaining, they both unwittingly reached for it where it lay on the ground at the foot of the bed. Cole stepped forward as they straightened up at the same time only to find himself much, much closer to Roy than he had been expecting. And neither of them were letting go of that white pillow.

Cole swallowed, a bit nervously. "I've got it."

"Sure you can handle it, Cole?" Roy smirked. There was his name again as well as the resulting shiver that ran down his spine. Their faces were barely eight inches apart, close enough for Cole to see the slight crease in Roy's forehead and the deep blue shade of his irises.

_Oh, why the hell not?_ The worst that would happen if he were to…would be if Roy hated him and kicked him out on the street. So, not really much different than what their relationship had been like before all this, actually. It was a good thing for the scotch running through his system, or else he would have never had the courage to do this.

"Yeah, I think I can," Cole said, more confidently. He leaned forward, closing the distance between them and clamped his lips over Roy's. He fully expected the other man to shove him away and slug him for good measure. Cole wouldn't have blamed him for it. But then he felt fingers pressing against the back of his skull and the pillow was thrust aside, forgotten. They pulled each other closer until their bodies were flush against each other. The kiss was rougher than any he had ever shared with a woman, brimming with pent-up desire that he couldn't figure out was coming from him or from Roy. It didn't take long before they were both breathing hard; Cole could feel Roy's breath warm against his cheek.

When they separated, they set their foreheads lightly against one another.

"Damn, Cole. You're a hell of a lot better a kisser than I imagined you would be," Roy said, eyes dancing with desire and amusement.

"I'll take that as a compliment," Cole said. His voice was rough. He reached up and undid their ties, first Roy's then his own. "How long have you been imagining it?"

"Since the first time I laid eyes on your pert little ass when you first got into Traffic," Roy responded. Cole paused even as Roy freed the top buttons of his shirt.

"You…wanted this since then?" Cole said.

Roy just nodded, seeing as his lips were busy nipping a line down his jaw. Cole pulled back, despite the impatient glint in Roy's eyes.

"You had a funny way of showing it," Cole said, his voice taking on a hard edge. Roy closed his eyes and ran a hand through his short hair. He let go of Cole and put some distance between them, which left Cole feeling cold and bereft despite the fact that he was still furious.

"I didn't think you would have an eye for anyone outside of home. That, and you didn't seem like the kind of guy that would want…another man. What the hell was I supposed to do?" Roy said.

"Fine. I understand that, but, how could you turn me into the chief and the DA? If you wanted me thrown out of my house just so you could chase after me, you definitely got your wish," Cole said.

"You made it pretty clear you wanted nothing to do with me and then you went after that German junkie whore…" he paused at the glare he received from Cole, "_Elsa._ The DA's administration needed an out at the time and I gave them one. But…I never intended for you to get caught up in that Suburban Redevelopment shit when you transferred to Arson."

'_Stay away from Elysian Fields_.' How much of that had been concern as much as it had been a threat? Cole absentmindedly toyed with his tie where it hung down both sides of his neck.

Roy chuckled bitterly. "Well look at us now. We really _are_ a dysfunctional couple. I'll let you get to bed." He turned away to pick up the discarded pillow, but Cole stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"I never hated you, you know," Cole said. "I…thought I did after you went and told everyone about Elsa and me, but I think I may have hated myself more for letting it get that far. Marie was so angry and I didn't know what else to do. And then Sheldon died and you were still going on about…" He shook his head. "The only thing you did was force me to admit how bad a state the LAPD and the rest of the world was in."

They stared at each other for a long moment and Roy managed to get out, "Cole, you…" before a massive thunderclap crashed just overhead. Both of them jumped (Cole, perhaps jumping a _bit_ higher than Roy) and, after a moment of shock and racing heartbeats, they broke out in laughter.

"That sounded angry," Cole said.

"What did we do, eh? Pipe down!" Roy protested, looking out the window, causing Cole to laugh again. The tight knot in his chest, which had grown unbearable over the last few minutes, eased and dissipated. No, he didn't hate Roy. He didn't approve of some of the things Roy did and probably never would, but they were on the same side and that mattered more than anything else. He set his palm over Roy's heart, feeling the heat from the other man's skin through the thin layer of fabric of his shirt.

"Do you still feel anything for me?" Cole said.

In response, Roy pulled him closer and kissed him again, long and slow and _deep_. "That answer your question?"

Cole nibbled his way down Roy's throat as he tried to figure out the fastest way to get them out of their suddenly restrictive shirts. Roy grunted when Cole bit down particularly hard on a sensitive spot and he felt himself stir. Roy spread his hands across Cole's bare back, massaging deep into the muscle he felt there.

"I knew you were packed well but…damn," he said when Cole had slipped his shirt from his shoulders and off his arms.

"Someone's gotta catch the bastards on the streets," Cole said.

"You saying I couldn't catch them? I bet I could catch you," Roy said. He pushed Cole backwards until they were sprawled across the bed. From there on, there were sensations that would be imprinted deep inside his body, melting his bones. Their belts and trousers were all but yanked down slim hips and hard flesh was explored liberally with hands and oil. He cried out when he felt a hot mouth engulf him and thoroughly enjoyed having Roy writhe underneath him when he returned the favor.

The only thing that made him squirm was when Roy's hand clasped between his thighs and crept downwards. With a sharp intake of breath, he knew what was coming and reached down to stop it. He wasn't sure if he was ready for…that…just yet, but Roy seemed to understand and went back to laving his hips with teeth and tongue. As each kiss melded heat and pleasure inside him, Cole was convinced he had never felt so _alive._

* * *

"I'm warning you, Cole. If you say you don't remember any of this in the morning because you were drunk, I will personally ensure you get thrown back into Patrol by next week," Roy said later, after the storm outside had calmed.

Cole stretched his limbs like a leisurely cat and grinned. "I don't know, my head feels a bit fuzzy…"

"I'm serious."

"If I say anything, then you'll just have to refresh my memory," Cole said, burying his face into the front of Roy's shoulder. He was gathered up in a pair of strong arms and, at last, saw a night ahead of him that was free from nightmares.


End file.
